His Return
by SherlockedHolmes221B
Summary: What happened after Moriarty showed his face on every screen in England? My first fic! Possible Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he stepped off the plane. He took a second to bask in the sunlight now that he was back outside. He had never been one for the outdoors, but everything seemed a hell of a lot better when your death sentence had been revoked.

"Moriarty," he remembered, and at once he snapped back to attention.

Sherlock had to admit he was impressed. Moriarty had somehow managed to fake his own death well enough to fool him for years. And it goes without saying that causing your face to appear on every screen in England simultaneously was rather remarkable. He supposed it was possible that it was someone else who had broadcast the video, but as the balance of probability went...

Sherlock headed in the direction of the the people standing at the end of the airport; John, Mary, and Mycroft. As he got closer, he and John locked eyes and shared a childish grin. He couldn't help it, to be honest. He had been under the impression that he'd never see his best friend again, and though he'd never admit it, he was extremely happy to be staying.

"Had a nice exile then?" John grinned, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Oh. I don't know. Felt like ages, to be completely honest."

John snorted, and before they both knew it they were giggling like little girls. Even Mary joined in, rolling her eyes at the two of them.

"So," John finally snickered, after the laughter had died down, "Any ideas then?"

It took Sherlock a second to realize he was talking about Moriarty.

"Seven so far," he said brightly.

"How..." John started, his expression one of disbelief, but Mycroft cut him off.

"I hate to interrupt the love fest, but we have more pressing issues at the moment," addressing Sherlock.

"Of course," he nodded, "I'm free to go then?"

"I've negotiated a deal. Bring him in, and all crimes will be... forgotten." He punctuated the last sentence with a sarcastic smile.

"Excellent. John, Mary, would you mind bringing the car around?"

John, probably too caught up in the excitement of the moment, did this without question, and Mary followed.

The audience now gone, Sherlock turned to his brother.

"You knew."

"Excuse me?" Mycroft asked, his expression unreadable.

"You knew that Moriarty was alive. You would have looked into it. You would have discovered that no one found the body."

Mycroft stared at him for a few seconds, and Sherlock felt a bit of triumph.

"The documents were... very convincing, and he obviously paid off the police. What did you expect from a man of his caliber?"

The Holmes brothers stared at each other for a few seconds, judging the other carefully. They were interrupted by John pulling up behind him and rolling down the window.

"Sherlock, come on, get in."

With one final glare at his brother, he climbed into the backseat, and John took off.

"Where am I going?" John asked.

"221 B. There's only one person who's capable of sending that message for Moriarty, and I need to contact her immediately."

Despite himself, Sherlock had to grin.

"The game is on."


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure it's really Moriarty? What if-" "Yes," Sherlock interrupted, staring out the window. John glared at him in the rear view mirror. "But what if-" "No." "Christ," John muttered under his breath. A few minutes later, he tried to pick up the conversation again. "What about you getting a full pardon then? I didn't they'd make such a rash decision, not that I'm complaining." Obviously they wouldn't. Why do you think I'm so sure Moriarty is alive?" Sherlock said, not making an effort to address John directly. "Wait, what?" Mary, who had been silent the entire car ride, turned to look at Sherlock. He made an impatient noise, finally turning to look at them. "Look, Moriarty has already made it perfectly clear that he has no problem directing the legal system. He obviously used his people to get me cleared of all charges. Can't have me shipped off to Eastern Europe, I won't be able to play his game." "I thought you said you completely destroyed the rest of his criminal network," John replied. "Thought I did. Although I suppose he could have just payed off the right people," he muttered, getting lost in thought again. John wanted to say more, but it was clear that Sherlock wasn't going to be volunteering anymore information. He just kept silent. He was used to it at this point. Suddenly, Mary spoke up again. "John, take me home, I'm feeling sick." John glanced at her, surprised, "You sure?" "Yes. Please." John glanced at Sherlock, who clearly wasn't paying any attention to the conversation. "Alright," John sighed, turning the car around. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? Because I-" "No, John, it's fine. Just, go with Sherlock. I'll be okay. Promise." Mary stood in the middle of the doorway, looking like she wasn't going to let him in even if John tried. He didn't feel right about leaving her alone, but with all the Moriarty chaos going on, and Sherlock clearly close to a lead... "Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Mary promised, and John started walking back to the car. Sherlock hadn't even bothered to move to the front seat, still staring off into space. John was left with his own thoughts for the drive to Baker Street, a route he knew well. Sherlock jumped out the second the car stopped, and started speed walking to the door. John took his sweet time getting out of the car, and it took him a minute to realize that Sherlock had stopped. "What's wrong?" John asked. "I was just wondering," the consulting detective began, "Why there is a motorcycle parked in front of my door." John glanced in the direction Sherlock was referring to. "That could be anyone's. They could have been looking for a parking-" "John. The door is open." "Christ," John muttered, finally grasping the situation. Mrs. Hudson always shut the door, no matter what. The two of them entered as quietly as they good, moving as slowly as possible. "Mrs. Hudson," John hissed, "Are you here?" Sherlock, however, had already examined the floor and the staircase. "She wasn't home. There are no signs of a struggle, and her coat's missing." "Thank God," John sighed with relief. "Don't thank Him quite yet," Sherlock muttered, eyes flickering upstairs, "Whoever broke in is still in the flat." John didn't ask how Sherlock knew this, just followed Sherlock silently. He wished he had a gun on him. It calmed him down when he knew he was able to defend himself. Once they reached the door, Sherlock mouthed counting to three, then pushed it open. There was a teenage girl standing there. John immediately relaxed. She was probably one of the least threatening things he'd seen. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, with big, innocent, emerald green eyes. She had fairly long blonde hair with a red streak in it pulled back in a messy ponytail. The girl was maybe a couple inches shorter than him, and she was dressed in a denim jacket, dark jeans, and slightly shoddy-looking combat boots. She had dropped a beat-up looking blue backpack at her feet. "How did you you get in here?" Sherlock demanded, giving her a look that had caused many witnesses to cower. The girl just smiled. "How did I break into an unoccupied flat with no burglar alarm and a shoddy lock? How indeed Mr. Holmes." Sherlock walked into the room, pushing past her. He headed towards his computer. "Leave. Now. I don't have time for you." John opened his mouth to apologize for Sherlock's rudeness, before remembering that she had just broken into 221B. "Ava Kate," the girl said inexplicably, staring at Sherlock. He froze, then slowly turned around. "You know her?" he asked skeptically. She smiled again. "I am her." 


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock passed the cup of tea to the girl who called herself Ava Kate. She began to raise it to her lips, then frowned.

"Too hot," she muttered, setting the cup on the table next to her instead.

John didn't understand why this girl was such a big deal. What was it about her name that held so much value in Sherlock's mind? He didn't hold many people to such high standards. He had barely any friends, and the only other people he considered worthy of conversing with were usually involved in a case somehow, or...

"Enemies" The word crossed John's mind, but he quickly dismissed it. How could someone so young be a master criminal?

Sherlock cleared his throat, sitting down in his chair. He and John were both seated facing the client's chair, where the girl was seated.

"So, Ava Kate-" Sherlock started.

"Just Ava, please," she interrupted, "No need for formalities."

Sherlock and Ava stared at each other for a good five seconds.

"Ava," Sherlock finally corrected himself, "Why did you come here? You knew it would be dangerous for you."

"Not like I'm any safer somewhere else than I am here," she muttered, "Besides, I thought the only reason anyone ever came to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson was for help."

"Hold on," John interrupted, "How do you know my name?"

Ava gave him an odd look.

"You are aware that you have an online blog containing both your names, addresses, and pictures, right?"

John said nothing, and Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Ava, what do you mean you're no safer here? Is someone posing a threat to you?"

She laughed without humor, a sound much too old for someone her age.

"You could say that," she replied, "You could also say that I've had three attempts on my life in the past month by several teams of trained assassins."

John started chuckling, and Ava gave him an irritated glance.

"Is something funny, Dr. Watson?" she asked him.

"It's just...you?" he grinned, "Why would someone want to kill you? You're so young!"

"John, you're going to want to stop talking now," Sherlock interrupted him, staring straight ahead.

"Oh, come on!" John said to Sherlock, gesturing to the girl, "What could she possibly do?"

Ava fixed her eyes on John, and her expression changed drastically.

"Have you ever killed someone, Dr. Watson?" she asked calmly, "I'm sure you have, with Sherlock as your best friend. Well, I can assure you, I have killed more people than you ever have. Maybe not more than your assassin wife, but plenty, I can assure you."

John's jaw dropped.

"Oh yes, I know about that that too. I also know that you have a sister named Harriet Watson, you were trained at St. Bartholomew's Hospital as an army doctor and served as a Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers for three years, and you are currently married to Mary Watson, who is nine months pregnant."

John looked at her in shock for a good ten seconds.

"Oh," he finally, "So you can do that deduction thing too then?"

"Nope," Sherlock was the one who responded, "She can't. But you should probably know that you that you are speaking with one of the most powerful people in the world. Probably the second most powerful, now that Magnussen is dead."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Ava said, "That man annoyed the hell out of me. Couldn't get any of his bloody information when it wasn't stored on computers."

"I'm sorry, but what is going on?" John demanded, "Who are you, and what do you do?"lolled

Ava sighed.

"I'm a hacker, Dr. Watson, the best in the world. And in the modern world, everything is stored on computers. I can get anything I want with just a little digging. I practically run the world."

"Then why do you need my help?" Sherlock stared at her expectantly.

Ava rolled her eyes, "Because someone is trying to kill me, Mr. Holmes, and I don't know who. I need you to help me find out who. And if you help me, I'll tell you where your precious Moriarty is."


End file.
